


House of Mirrors

by KissingWinchesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: smpc, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 05:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9420083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KissingWinchesters/pseuds/KissingWinchesters
Summary: A twisted entity tears the Winchesters apart. Will they get each other back before its too late?





	

**Author's Note:**

> My second go at the SMPC! Really enjoying being part of the community. Thanks to Merakieros for your patience and amazing artwork.

 

 

 

 

The skin on Dean’s knuckles is split and bleeding, dark red droplets patting onto the shards of glass scattered at his feet. His throat is raw.

He tries forcing the door another time but it won’t budge. The wood doesn’t so much as creak when his boot slams into it. The thing that’s done this, the entity that’s trapped him and taken his brother fuck knows where, doesn’t want him to leave this house. Not that he won’t stop trying. He can’t.

Taking a deep breath, Dean presses his fists to his eye sockets and tries to think. It’s not easy with the waves of panic crawling under his skin, but Sam needs him, he has to hold it together.

“Ok, ok,” he mutters, pacing a few steps. He goes through the facts of the case in his head.

Disappearances dating back a hundred years in the town of Millage, Pennsylvania. Same month every seven years, two people from the town are never seen again. They’re always either relations or friends, but the two people always know each other in some way.  
Lovers, a voice whispers, and the house shudders around Dean like pleasure trembling down a spine.  
Lovers are taken too. Dean swallows the bile suddenly bitter on his tongue.

The latest victims were a mother and her young daughter, and it was because of the missing child that he and Sam had read about the story in the papers and looked into it, discovering the link to all of the deaths over the years that the townspeople hadn’t connected.  
Turned out when they got there that the cops had known all along that there was a pattern to the deaths, but because no one had ever been able to solve them it’d been brushed under the rug, put down to vagrants passing through town and random killings. Sam had been so angry about it, always so sensitive to the suffering of others, and Dean had had to hold him back from getting in the face of the sheriff when he’d dismissed this latest case. He said that Mandy Richter and her daughter Casey had probably just gone to visit family and that they had failed to tell their neighbours. The guy was a complete douche.

He and Sam had known better. A bit of research and gathering of local knowledge on the town had uncovered and myth about an entity. A creature so old that even their dad’s journal had barely a page on it. Parasitic, the thing had lain dormant in one of the oldest houses in the town, only needing to wake up and feed every seven years. John had described it as a voyeuristic entity that took pleasure in watching its victims be torn apart, separated from the person they love the most.

“I know you’re watching me you sick sonofabitch!”

The house shudders again and Dean turns quickly at the sound of the door swinging open and he goes from naught to sixty in two seconds flat, racing across the room. But of course, the door slams in his face before he can jam his foot against the frame.

“Fuck…” Dean pants, chest heaving with exhaustion and frustration. “FUCK!”

In a mirror on the wall, just to the left of Dean’s head, he sees a figure out of the corner of his eye. It’s human in form, but twisted and dark, almost as though it would evaporate in the shadows if you looked at it directly.

Dean doesn’t want to look at it, not unless it’s close enough for him to kill it, so he pulls his gun from the back of his jeans and bares his teeth as the mirror explodes.

The frame wobbles on the nail but remains on the wall, a few large pieces of mirror still attached. Dean looks closer. There’s blood on some of the razor sharp edges. And it’s definitely not his.

“What the…?” He reaches out and touches the blood, careful not to slice his finger. It’s warm to the touch. Fresh.

Stepping back, Dean scans the room. In the panic of losing Sam he hadn’t been aware if there was anyone else in the room with him. Another victim not yet dead perhaps.

“Uh, hello?”

He spots a floor length mirror in the far corner of the room, the only place anyone could hide.

Raising his gun, he approaches slowly. It feels like he’s in some fucked up fun house at the worlds creepiest fair. When he gets closer, his reflection in the mirror blurs.

“Ughhh come on. If there’s anyone there… I’m not gonna hurt you, but I really want to get the hell out of this freak show and I’m sure you do too. I can help you.”

Dean rolls his eyes and ducks around the mirror, hoping to catch whoever left the blood on the mirror, but there’s no one there. When he steps back, his reflection is completely gone, the surface now frosted like ice on a pond.

He keeps watching, gun digging into the palm of his hand, letters rising in front of his eyes.

’D… E… A… N…’

’S… A… M…“

“Sammy?” Dean crouches down, placing his gun on the wooden floorboards. He touches the letters carefully, but they don’t smudge under his fingertips, almost as if they’re under the glass not on top of it.

Dean narrows his eyes. This could be the entity playing tricks on him. Despite his initial relief, Dean can’t blindly trust that whoever is writing this is his brother.

The letters fade and more rise almost immediately.

’D… R… A… W…’

‘J… E… R…K…’

Dean grins. That’s definitely Sam alright. As the words fade a symbol appears, and the house shakes violently. Dean’s almost knocked to his feet, but he manages to grab his knife, cutting his finger and squeezing until blood trickles freely. He traces the symbol on the mirror, unsure if he should press the palm of his hand to it or not, when there’s an ear piercing roar of noise like the ocean is about to crash down on top of Dean’s head. He covers his ears but it doesn’t help, it’s in his head, it’s everywhere.

“Dean… Dean!”

Sam’s voice penetrates through the deafening sound, pulling Dean through it until it’s nothing but a ringing in his ears. He slumps down on his ass, breathing hard.

“Dean… fuck, can you hear me?”

“Sam… yeah, I can hear you. You ok?”

Sam’s voice feels strangely like an echo, bouncing off the mirrors and breaking against Dean’s skin like a sound wave.

“I’m ok. You have to stop breaking stuff though. I think… I think we’re in the same room somehow, but we’re split.”

Dean frowns, trying to think of any mention of a creature who can do stuff like that and coming up blank.

“This fucking things watching is, Sammy. I broke some of its mirrors, but… shit, you said you were ok. How bad is it? And don’t lie to me.”

“Just a few cuts, I promise. It actually gave me the idea of how to reach you so don’t freak out.”

Dean rolls his eyes. Sam can’t quit sassing Dean even when they’re trapped by an entity that wants to kill them. He hates that it was his own stupid actions that hurt his brother, but he knows he has to focus now, so he pushes it aside.

“Fine. So, any ideas how we gank this thing. It’s nothing we’ve come across before. We’ve only got the ghost stories and legends of the town to go on. Might as well be Hansel and Gretel.”

“I had an idea about that too,” Sam replies, his voice bouncing around like a pinball.

The house shakes and cracks start to split the ceiling above Dean’s head.

“You seeing this, Sam?”

“Yeah… I don’t think we have long.”

Dean’s heart clenches painfully.

“Sam, what happened before… I want you to know that I meant it.” Dean sighs and runs his hand over his eyes and into his hair. “It’s always been you, Sam.”

A few beats of silence stretch out and dean feels his energy draining from him, his life being absorbed by the entity. Thoughts of Sam’s lips flash through his mind, the way they’d parted so slightly, how they’d fit against his own. It wasn’t much of anything, just a brush of a kiss really, but now it’s like sand slipping through his fingers. A memory and nothing more.

“Dean, stop… listen to my voice. This is what it wants.” Sam sounds breathless. “We need to get out of here right now and I think I know how, but I need you. I need you, Dean. I’m not losing you.”

Gritting his teeth, Dean nods, then shakes his head angrily, realising that Sam can’t see him.

“I hear you. Tell me what we need to do.”

Sam goes into geekboy mode right away, making Dean smile despite the shitty situation they’re in. People always underestimate his brother, how sharp his mind is, how fiercely he fights for what’s right. But never Dean. He listens as Sam explains that the entity might be an ancient succubus, or at least an early form of one. The way that it drains people of life who share a connection, a love of one form or another, it’s not that far from the sexual nature of the way succubi kill their victims.

It’s a long shot, but considering they entered the house knowing almost nothing about the entity, they don’t have much of a choice.

“So, you’re guessing?”

“Yes, Dean, I’m guessing. But it’s all I’ve got, so we’re going to go with it.”

“Alright, slow your roll, I didn’t say I had any better ideas.” Dean says, smiling fondly at Sam’s pissy voice. He can picture his face, nose and forehead scrunched in annoyance. “Exorcism then? The fucking thing hasn’t showed its face on my end, have you seen it?”

“Only glimpses, but I don’t think that matters,” Sam replies. “I don’t know.”

“No… no, it’ll work, Sam. Ok?”

The house lurches, wood and plaster falling heavily. Dean lifts his arm above his head to protect himself from the worst of it.

“Sam!” Dean yells over the din, shakily getting to his knees and then standing. “You ready?!”

“I’m ready!” Sam yells back, distorted and distant.

Sam begins, speaking the words so familiar he could recite them in his sleep. Dean adds his own voice to his brothers, both of them getting louder and louder as the house starts to collapse around them.

A black shadow grows in the centre of the room, long fingers stretching towards Dean. It starts to scream, it’s gaping mouth disturbingly wide, but neither he or Sam let up, relentless.

It’s working, Dean thinks. They’re going to kill this thing once and for all. It didn’t count on how strongly the Winchesters need each other, couldn’t break them.

The shadows fingers draw back, clutching at its own throat. A white light pulses through it, once, twice, and Dean lifts his gun and fires, emptying his clip into the entities chest. Sam, hearing Dean fire, does the same, the blasts sounding so close Dean look around expecting to see Sam standing beside him.

When the last bit of Latin is spoken, the white light expands and throws Dean against the far wall, winding him.

“Dean?”

Lifting his head, Dean sees his brother against the opposite wall. A bit rumpled, but in one piece.

“You look like shit,” Dean says, wincing as he gets to his feet. He goes over to Sam and helps him up, and Sam brushes his hair out of his eyes, watching Dean closely. “This place is a death trap. Let’s get out of here.”

Sam nods and grips Dean’s arm, pulling him forward just as a wooden beam swings down from the ceiling.

“See, death trap,” Dean pants, pressed against Sam’s chest. He leans in, but Sam has other ideas.

He keeps his grip on Dean’s arm and drags him to the door. It opens this time, and they stumble over the rubble littering the hallway. The front door is hanging of its hinges, and comes clean off when Sam shoves his shoulder into it.

The street lights pierce the darkness, guiding them to where they parked the Impala.

“How long were we in there?” Sam asks, letting his hand fall from Dean’s arm. “It wasn’t even close to going dark when we went in there.”

“Too long,” Dean says, curling his fingers into the neck of Sam’s shirt, dragging him against the impala and kissing him hard.

Sam is pliant at first, letting Dean do what he wants to him, leaving him to release some of the tension still buzzing through his system, the fear. Sam is happy to. What Dean said before, that it’s only ever been Sam for him, is equally true for him. Dean fills every space in his heart. Always has.

Dean sucks on Sam’s bottom lip and Sam finds himself opening his legs to give Dean even more room, wanting no space between them. It’s a warm night, and getting warmer with every swipe of Dean’s tongue against his own.

Needing to breathe, Dean relaxes, kissing Sam more gently until he finally stops, bringing his hand up to Sam’s cheek while the other rests on his waist.

“Should'a done that before,” Dean says. “Thought you might want to think about it… what we were doing.”

Sam pushes his hips into Dean, his erection passing over the bulge in Dean’s jeans.

“I don’t want to think anymore. I was alone in there. You were all I could think about.” Sam raises his own hand to Dean’s face. “Kiss me again.”

Dean smiles and lurches forward, doing what they both want, what they need. Sam gasps into Dean’s mouth and slides his fingers into Dean’s hair, holding the back of his head so he can’t pull away again.

They grind against each other, Sam slowly leaning back against the hood of the Impala, so much so that he has to let go of Dean’s hip to steady himself against the car. He grips Dean’s hair tighter, which seems to rile his brother up even more. He rucks Sam’s t-shirt and shirt up, desperately pawing at the warm skin that’s revealed to him.

Sliding his hand around Sam’s side, Dean holds the back of his brother’s head and angles his mouth to a better position, manoeuvring him where he wants him. They’re rutting like lovesick teenagers making out after a date. Sam is so hard against him, and Dean is feeling the pressure himself, his jeans too tight as they thrust together, friction so damn sweet that it’s not unlikely that they’ll be coming in their pants like teenagers too.

The thing is… Dean can’t resist. They shouldn’t be doing this in the middle of a suburban street, where they could be seen, but he can’t stop. His need for Sam overwrites rational thinking.

Lifting his knee, Dean urges Sam to ride his leg. Sam moans and hooks his leg around Dean’s thigh, grinding down hard.

“God, Sam, yeah… that’s it. You got it…”

Sam tilts his head back, exposing his neck for Dean’s insistent lips. Dean bites the long curve down to Sam’s collarbone just peeking over the neck of his t-shirt while deftly unbuckling both of their belts and unzipping their jeans.

“Wanna fuck you,” he says, kissing back up until his lips graze against Sam’s ear. “But not here, not now… I wanna take my time with you, Sam.”

“Oh fuck…” Sam pants. “Please, just touch me. Don’t stop, don’t stop…”

Dean’s fingers still over the waistband of Sam’s boxers where he was teasing, keeping Sam on the edge of getting what he’s now begging for.

There’s a time and place for being cruel, and now is not it. Dean pulls Sam’s cock free and then his own, his breath catching in his throat when they move against each other in his hand, how the heads catch and pull the skin, precome slick and sensitive.

“Want you to come for me. Just me,” Dean continues against Sam’s ear.

Sam rolls his hips and clings to Dean like he’s going to disappear again. He let’s Dean set the pace, focusing on staying upright and Dean’s lips, the searing kisses that won’t let up, the sounds that Dean keeps making. It’s so fucking hot and Sam starts to shake even though his skin is on fire.

“So beautiful,” Dean says, looking down at where he’s holding them together, their cock sliding easily through the tight ring between his thumb and fingers. “Come on, Sammy.”

Behind them, the house of mirrors starts to collapse, dust and debris bursting out in a cloud around it.

Dean laughs and bites at Sam’s neck. Killing a supernatural asshole never fails to make him a bit horny, but now he has Sam in his arms, Dean feels wild with uncontrollable lust. He’s so close, but he’s determined to get Sam off first.

With his free hand, Dean lifts Sam’s shirts again, running his hand up his brother’s toned stomach until it brushes over his peaked nipple.

“God…” Sam groans, his hips jolting forward in response.

He looks so dishevelled that Dean silently curses that he can’t snap a quick picture on his phone, capturing this moment forever.

“Later,” Dean mutters, biting Sam’s earlobe.

“What?” Sam blinks at him, eyes unfocused, damp strands of hair stuck to his forehead.

“I’ll tell you later,” Dean grins, squeezing his hand tighter and grinding his hips harder into Sam.

“Dean…” Sam gasps, almost roping Dean’s hair out at the root he’s gripping it so much. “Gonna… uhhh…”

He spills over the head of Dean’s cock and over his hands, come running down into the open vee of his jeans. It’s quick and messy, but perfect, needed after the time ripped apart by the entity.

Sam all but collapses forward, his body curling in on itself as the aftershocks of his orgasm still wreck him.

“Yeah, Sam… so good for me.” Dean grunts, still jerking himself against Sam’s spent cock.

It doesn’t take long. Dean kisses Sam languidly, his tongue moving slowly into Sam’s willing mouth, and he comes with a curse. Sam takes over kissing, letting Dean ride out his own orgasm.

When the house is nothing more than broken bricks and split wood, Dean steps out of Sam’s legs and zips them both up, enjoying how Sam is watching him, blissed out and happy.

Dean can’t resist kissing him again, getting Sam around the back of his neck and molding their mouths together.

“Mm, Dean… we have to get out of here.”

Dean sighs and presses his forehead to Sam’s before reluctantly letting him go. The commotion of the house being destroyed is bringing curious people out of their homes. They need to be gone before the police arrive.

Without a word, they part and Sam walks to the passenger side, a dopey smile on his face. Dean gets in the car and starts the engine, pulling onto the road just as the residents of the street start to gather.

Sam reaches across the seat and puts his hand on Dean’s thigh and Dean flicks on the radio. They look at each other, and Dean links their fingers together, the lyrics washing over them as they head home.

“ _So close no matter how far,  
Couldn’t be much more from the heart,  
Forever trust in who we are,  
And nothing else matters.”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics at the end of the fic are taken from the song Nothing Else Matters by Metallica


End file.
